


A Second Opinion

by NiteWrighter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Past Bapzo, Past Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiteWrighter/pseuds/NiteWrighter
Summary: Mercy is kidnapped by Talon with the express purpose of trying to stop Reaper’s rapidly deteriorating condition. Moira’s not happy about it. Reaper’s not happy about it. Mercy is very very very not happy about it. Genji is distraught and desperate to get her back, and Hanzo has an old contact who might just be able to help.





	1. Chapter 1

Mercy’s feet dangled off the floor from the high stool of the hotel bar. She had kicked off her heels and now doodled a spiral in the egg white foam of her cocktail with one of those plastic sword toothpicks. Medical conferences like these were important for her maintaining intellectual property rights over her biotic technology, and touching base with those she trusted with it, but she did feel antsy away from the watchpoint.

“Doctor Ziegler, right?”

Mercy hesitated to turn around–so many would-be pharmaceutical big-shots felt like they could approach her when she was just trying to take a moment for herself, but the pitch of the voice didn’t match the usual. She glanced up to see an enormous man with a lightning white streak in the thick black mane of his hair, wearing a clearly-just-bought t-shirt of the Maltese coat of arms, and holding a barely-still-together magazine. He brought a hand up in a small wave, “Hey. Big fan.”

“Big fan indeed,” the words fell out of Mercy and she instantly felt awkward blurting that out and glanced off, “Sorry, I didn’t mean–it’s–It’s been a long–”

“Ha! Big fan! Man I should have caught that! That’s good!” he said, taking a seat next to her and glanced at her drink, “That looks good.”

“Campari sour,” said Mercy, sipping her drink.

“Campari sour for me too,” the man said to the bartender, “And-uh, I can cover the lady’s drink as well.”

“You don’t have to buy me a drink–” said Mercy.

“Least I can do for a moment of your time,” said the man, tucking his white streaked hair back. He held the magazine up to her, “Like I said, big fan.”

Mercy took the magazine and huffed at the picture of herself in the article. It was an interview she barely remembered giving about three years previous.

“You… want an autograph?” Mercy’s mouth twisted up in an incredulous smile. 

“I would have printed out one of your dissertations to sign, but uh, truth be told I never got through them, so it didn’t seem genuine,” he said, scratching the side of his head, “But, I do know that without your work, I probably would have died a long time ago so…” He trailed off, “You don’t have to sign it,” he added, “I just… wanted to thank you.”

Mercy shrugged and took the pen holding her bun up out of her hair to sign the magazine article. “It’s nice to be appreciated,” she said, “Who should I make this out to?”

“Mauga. Just Mauga. Like Beyoncé,” said Mauga.

Mercy snickered a little as she signed the magazine and capped the pen. The bartender set the man’s drink in front of him and he eased up against the bar with a sigh.

“So when is Talon showing up?” said Mercy.

“Talon?” Mauga repeated.

“You think I can’t tell when someone’s undergone significant cybernetic and genetic enhancements? You think I can’t tell when it’s clearly illegal amounts? The kind one can only get when Talon is involved?”

“Maybe I’m just big-boned,” said Mauga with a shrug before sipping his drink.

Mercy furrowed her brow. 

“I recommend you finish your drink, Doctor Ziegler,” said Mauga, “Seems like a shame for it to go to waste.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Mercy’s voice was quiet but sharp.

“I really would like to get through this without being an asshole, Doc,” said Mauga.

“I can make this hell for you,” said Mercy.

“And I believe you,” said Mauga, sipping his drink again, “But—and this is the asshole part–this isn’t just about you.” 

He rifled through a messenger bag that was practically a fanny pack with his size and pulled out a tablet and handed it to her. Mercy looked at the tablet and tilted her head at what appeared to be footage of a camera being lowered down the side of a building except–no, she saw the flash of a scarlet blade enter the periphery of the camera.

“Assassins–” she said quietly.

“Doctor Adekoya’s in room 319. Doctor Marquez is in room 612. Doctor Liebowitz is in room–”

“I get it,” she said quietly, “Call them off.”

“Asshole part part two: Revenge of the asshole,” said Mauga, “They won’t be called off until I confirm you’re on one of our dropships. And these ladies? They can make it as slow as they have to be, but they can get the job done, believe me.”

Mercy’s mouth thinned. “If you’re going to kill me just kill me. Don’t bring them into it.”

“_Yeesh_–Martyr complex, much?” said Mauga, “You’re no good to us dead. _Them_ dead on the other hand–pfft.” he made a waving motion with his hand, “…Clock’s ticking, Doc.”

Mercy made furious, defiant eye contact with Mauga, picked up her cocktail, kept that furious eye contact as she gulped it down, then set it back on the bar. “Fine,” she said.

“Y’know they _did_ say you were smart,” said Mauga, finishing his own drink.

Mercy shouldered her purse and dug through it, activating the distress beacon on her comm with a click as Mauga got up from his own seat.

“Give it.” said Mauga.

“Give what?” said Mercy.

“I know this is an impossible request, but don’t be cute,” said Mauga, walking her out.

Mercy handed over the comm and Mauga easily crushed it in his palm before tossing it into a trashcan in the hotel lobby as they moved into an elevator. Mauga had to crook his neck slightly to accommodate the small space of the elevator, and Mercy was practically pushed into a corner.

The elevator took them up to the roof. Mercy squinted and winced in the wind kicked up by the Talon dropship as it loomed over the hotel helipad. A rope ladder dropped from the Talon ship and Mauga gestured for Mercy to climb up it.

“Overwatch _will_ come for me,” said Mercy, taking ahold of the bottom rung of the rope ladder.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” said Mauga, “On the ladder is not _in_ the dropship, Doctor Z.” He made a pointing to his watch motion and Mercy scrambled up the ladder into the dropship.

Mauga brought a finger to his ear to activate his comm. “Yeah. Asset’s secured. Call them off. _Yes_, I said call them off–look do you really want to deal with the paperwork of a clean-up crew?” He paused, “Thought so.” he climbed up the rope ladder after Mercy. “Told you I’m a man of my word,” he said, clambering into the dropship.

“You didn’t say that,” said Mercy.

“I didn’t?” said Mauga, he shrugged, “Anyway, your doctor friends aren’t dead. So… everyone wins!”

Mercy shot him a glare.

“You should really learn to look on the bright side of things, you know that?” said Mauga as the Talon dropship took off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references [The Volskaya Incident](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767903/chapters/24924477) from my primary overwatch fic work.

The Orca had barely touched down when Genji bounded out of it and raced out of the hangar.

“Genji–You still have to debrief–Genji!” Tracer called after him but Ana put a hand on her shoulder as Genji disappeared from sight.

The door to the watchpoint conference room slid open and Genji stood there, body tensed in some simultaneous state of exhaustion and pure adrenaline.

“Genji–” Jack started.

“Where was her security?” said Genji, his voice dark.

Jack gave a sharp look over at McCree, who was leaning against the conference table. “I told you not to tell him until after the debriefing.”

“He had a right to know,” said McCree.

_“Where was her security?”_ Genji asked, his cybernetic hand clenching in a fist at his side.

“Two were found dead in bathroom stalls about an hour after her comm beacon cut out,” said Jack, “The other two never even made it out of their van. Talon apparently took advantage of a change in shifts.”

“Last known location?” said Genji walking in front of the screen which was blipping through security footage of Mercy at a hotel bar with a man who probably rivaled Reinhardt in size.

“According to satellite imaging, The helipad of Hotel Eupheme in Malta,” said McCree, “With the hotel security footage from the bar to the elevator, it doesn’t look like they harmed her.”

Genji seemed to relax slightly but only slightly. “I should have been there–” he started.

“You had a mission,” said Jack, “A mission you still have to debrief from.”

“To hell with the debriefing!” said Genji, “We need to get her back! Talon could be torturing her or-or–” Genji’s breath seemed to grow short from the very thought of it. McCree put a hand on his shoulder.

“For her sake I’m going to ask you to remain calm,” said Jack, “With her comm destroyed we don’t know where she currently is.”

“But we do know the dropship that took her isn’t designed for long flights like the Orca,” said McCree, “They’ll probably still be in the Mediterranean—”

“Venice?” said Genji.

“A bit obvious, but they’re fortified there, so it makes the most sense,” said Jack.

Genji sighed. “We should have had backup for her in Malta—she could have fought, run… bought some time…”

“Security for the conference seemed tight enough,” said McCree, “And we’re stretched thin as it is.”

“They managed to grab her at the tail end of it. The infiltration was likely significantly more thorough than local authorities can report,” said Jack.

“They had to be threatening other scientists at the conference. She would have never gone with them, otherwise,” said Genji.

“Obviously Talon wants her for something–this isn’t a strike against us, this is acquiring her,” said Jack.

“Would’ve hit the watchpoint, otherwise,” said McCree.

“Another Widowmaker?” said Genji.

“Probably would have knocked her out if that were the case,” said Jack, “Easier to gaslight. Easier to brainwash if control over your own consciousness is taken from you. From the looks of it they need her conscious.”

“Sharp, even,” said McCree. 

“They need her as a doctor,” said Genji, “They need her as a scientist.”

“I’m afraid I have a pretty strong idea what for,” said Jack.

—-

“_No_, I’m not insulted by this _at all,_ thank you for asking,” said Moira as Gabriel Reyes grunted from his stretcher while about a dozen labtechs scrambled around, taking notes at various machines monitoring his condition.

“Nothing–ngh–wrong with bringing in a second opinion,” said Reaper.

“Except, if memory serves, you nearly killed that second opinion a few months ago,” said Moira, “I doubt she’ll be very forgiving about that.” 

“She understands biotics–”

“_I_ understand biotics,” said Moira.

“She _invented_ biotics as they’re used in modern medicine now,” said Reaper. 

“She _put you_ in the state you are now!” Moira barked.

“Which means she might–” Reaper hacked a wet, rotten cough, “She might be the only one who knows how to stabilize it,” said Reaper.

“Or she could just inject you with an irradiated solution so Interpol can hunt you down like a dog while you’re falling apart,” said Moira.

“Which is why you’ll be keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t,” said Reaper.

Moira’s lips pulled back from her teeth with disgust. 

“I know you don’t like this. _I_ don’t like this. Matter of fact, every nanite in my body is seizing up with repulsion at the very thought of it. Angela Ziegler is associated with the most physically agonizing few seconds of my existence. I can’t turn that off. I wish we weren’t resorting to this. I really do. But Moira,” he put a hand on her shoulder. Moira glanced down at it as his pinky crumpled off and hit the floor with a dull, mundane sound that didn’t really seem to reflect the direness of Reaper’s own state, “I don’t know what else to do. And I’m scared. And we wouldn’t be resorting to this if we knew you hadn’t exhausted every option in your own repertoire.”

Moira met his gaze, some stubbornness, some resentment still glinting in her heterochromatic eyes. The silver half-mask on her face did some work to conceal her expression, but they had worked together too long for Reaper to be unable to read her.

“I trust _you_,” said Reaper, “You’re going to be in control on this. I promise you that.”

Moira picked up his pinky, turning it over in her own long fingers before taking Reaper’s hand and attempting to put it back on. It met the knuckle joint with the clumsiness of a child figuring out how clay worked. It stuck, but both knew it couldn’t last. “She so much as sneezes wrong and we put a bullet through her head,” said Moira.

“She’s not walking out of this,” said Reaper, “We’re compromising too much just bringing her to Venice–let alone my medical status. As soon as I’m stable, she’s dead. It’s that simple.”

“And if you destabilize again?” said Moira, “If I can’t fix you next time and she’s gone?”

“Well if she manages to buy me a few weeks, a few days even, I can at least get things in order so _we_ aren’t too destabilized when–”

“Don’t talk like that,” said Moira. The words fell out of her like a flinch.

“I’m just being practical,” said Reaper.

“I know–” said Moira, instantly regretting her own vulnerability. She folded her arms across herself, “I don’t…” she inhaled, “I don’t have many friends, Gabriel. I don’t have many people who understand me like you do. That’s the only reason I’m willing to chance this.”

“You’re a real trooper, O’Deorain,” said Reaper before hacking that rotten cough again.

Moira scoffed.

—-

The world outside the bag over Mercy’s head was muffled. She felt noise-cancelling headphones pressing against the sides of her face through the cloth of the bag. The heavy cuffs dug into the skin of her wrists and made her forearms ache with the weight. She would argue that it was excessive but the truth was, it wasn’t. She knew Talon meant to disorient her–give her no sense of the dropship’s direction, no clue as to what Mauga and his compatriots were discussing–she could hear him and the other agents laughing at several points but judging from the general rhythm of the conversation, he was just being his apparently usual jovial self. There were five other Talon agents aside from him in the dropship–maybe six. 

“It’s Gabriel, isn’t it?” she said and the muffled conversation cut out completely.

She felt Mauga’s hands gently pull the headphones off of her head.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said.

“You wouldn’t bring me in if it was anything else,” said Mercy, “He’s dying, isn’t he?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” said Mauga.

“If he died, there would be a power vacuum within Talon, wouldn’t there?” said Mercy, “You might benefit more from him dead than alive.”

“That’s not very ‘hippocratic oath’ of you,”said Mauga, a bit of mock scolding in his voice. He snorted. “I see what you’re trying to do here, Doc, and… I mean, good effort, but like… if I wanted Reaper dead I’d just toss you out of the dropship…. and I don’t see any wings on you right now. So I’m not really sure what your endgame here is–maybe try and mess up the ranks?”

_So, Reaper _is_ dying_, thought Mercy. 

There was a brief pause that Mercy assumed was Mauga looking at the other Talon agents for suggestions, but no suggestions arose.

“Maybe try and work something out with me?” said Mauga.

Mercy just huffed underneath her bag.

“I’m friendly, Doc, but I’m not _that_ friendly,” said Mauga, a smile in his voice.

A ripple of snickers rose up among the other Talon agents. They liked him. Or they were scared of him. Probably both. He had a strong rapport within the organization, faith in the abilities of his team. Good for him, not good for her. In all honesty she had expected Talon to be, organization-wise, a crumbling jenga tower of backstabbing, but if Mauga was anything to go by, getting out of this alive was looking more and more unlikely.

Mercy tensed up a bit more where she was sitting. The most chilling thing about Mauga talking about throwing her out of the dropship was the fact that he made absolutely no effort to sound threatening. It _wasn’t_ a threat–neither was him saying that the doctors at the conference would die if she didn’t agree to get in the dropship. _That_ wasn’t a threat and _this_ wasn’t a threat, he was just stating what would happen.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the dropship touched down. They put the headphones back on over her bag and the sensory deprivation made it harder to count off the seconds into minutes into hours-with her own exhaustion from the conference and the steady constant stream of adrenaline in her own system, she couldn’t be sure if she fell asleep, either. Her whole world was blackness and all the muffled talking of Mauga and the other Talon agents blurred into each other no matter how hard she tried to focus and decipher it. She knew she could still smell the salt of the mediterranean, but it wasn’t Gibraltar. There was a bit of a stink to this new scent–old European city, she guessed–crumbling bricks and centuries-old waste management. She could smell salt and sewage as Mauga more or less just picked her up and set her on her feet on cement or stucco. Her feet wobbled in the heels she was wearing at the conference as she was prodded forward blindly, the world muffled around her. She heard Mauga’s voice, loud, jovial, and a clipped response, then a questioning tone from Mauga and another clipped, now slightly annoyed response. There was another sound from Mauga that sounded a bit like “If you say so” and the headphones were pulled off of her head, then the bag was pulled off of her face. She glanced around only briefly–she knew she was on the roof of a building, she knew she could hear the lapping of water and smell both sea and sewage rising up from below. _Venice_, she thought, _It has to be Venice._ Mercy didn’t have a chance to further confirm her observations, because she found herself staring up at a face that she wished wasn’t familiar.

“Ziegler,” said Moira, glaring down at her.

“O’Deorain,” said Mercy. Mercy inhaled and opened her mouth.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” said Moira.

“I–” Mercy started but then felt a gun barrel at her back from one of the Talon agents.

“I’m sure you had plenty of time to think up all manner of insults and threats for us on your trip over–probably nonsense about how ‘your team is coming for you’ and ‘I’m a disgrace to the name of all life sciences,’ but to be frank, I don’t care, and I don’t have the time,” said Moira, “So what’s going to happen is this: You’re going to walk after me. You won’t speak unless spoken to. You won’t attempt to resist. You’re going to comply or you’re going to suffer. Are we clear on that?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Mercy.

“I know you aren’t,” said Moira with a condescending tilt of her head, “I know the only reason you went along with Mauga was because people other than you were at risk and _god knows_ you always have to be the martyr. You don’t have to be scared of me now, Angela. But test me, and we will find out what it takes to _teach_ you that fear. Are we understood?”

Mercy spat in her face. Moira winced back at it only slightly, more from the surprise than the sensation, really. The majority of the spit landed on her silvery half mask.

“Slow learner,” muttered Moira, wiping off the spit with one hand and flicking it off her fingers, “Mauga? Hold her.”

“Welp,” Mauga shrugged and gripped Mercy by the shoulders as Moira pressed at the interior of her wrist and a violet light glowed at the base of her palm. 

Mercy barely had time to react before she felt Moira’s hand grip the point where her neck met her shoulder. A violet light, like some dark twisted version of Mercy’s own biotics’ healing tether suddenly wrapped around her upper torso in vein-like tendrils of plasma. She felt every cell in her body screaming and the sensation suddenly sent her back to Volskaya a few months back, Reaper looming over her, saying,_ “Just breathe, let it take you,”_ as she felt the life get sapped from every inch of her. She didn’t need a shotgun-blasted hole in her solarplexus to feel the death seeping into her, this time. She could feel the decay seeping in from the point where Moira’s hand gripped her. A sound fell out of Mercy, weak and rattling, half-strangled, half-crying out in agony as she sank to her knees and Moira stooped slightly to keep that contact.

“I can do worse than this, Angela,” said Moira as Mercy’s voice rose up in a weak wail, “I can do far, far worse than this.”

She broke her hand away and Mercy flinched into herself, her shoulders caving inward, her breath shuddering.

“Interesting,” said Moira, looking at her own hand and curling and uncurling her fingers inward, “You feel it more, don’t you?” she said, looking down at Mercy, “All those biotics in your body…I felt more of a reaction there–didn’t you? Like electricity through water. There’s usually a bit more… friction with other subjects.”

“You’re a monster,” said Mercy, her voice low. A birthmark-like splotch of bruise-purple stained the side of her neck where Moira’s hand had just been.

“I’m a scientist,” said Moira, “Now are you going to walk with me or are we going to have another teaching moment?”

Mercy stumbled up to her feet and Mauga released her to sway where she stood.

“Take me to him,” said Mercy.

“You don’t even know why you’re here–” said Moira.

_“I know why I’m here,”_ pain wracked Mercy’s voice, “Take me to him.”

“Quicker learner than I thought,” said Moira, turning on her heel and heading toward a door into the building, “Mauga, do be a dear and snap her neck if she tries anything.”

“Gotcha, boss,” said Mauga with a small salute as they walked after Moira.

“See, Angela?” said Moira, gesturing at Mauga, “_Professional._”

“Aw, you’re making me blush,” said Mauga.


	3. Chapter 3

The heart monitor beeped steadily as Gabriel Reyes stared at Mercy in the Talon medical wing. She stared right back, frozen in the doorway. Mercy felt Moira looming close behind, those heterochromatic eyes flicking over Gabriel’s figure, trying to parse what was the latest thing going wrong. Mauga had dropped off a while back to attend to some enforcers, but honestly the threat of another biotic grip from Moira was enough to keep Mercy relatively compliant. Still running any possible escape scenario she could through her head, but compliant. 

Reaper was seated on an examination table, not looking very much like Reaper at all, hunched in a well-worn black hoodie and dark gray elastic cuff sweatpants with pristinely well-kept red and white sneakers. Mercy remembered Volskaya–shooting the bone-white mask off of his face, and the chilling shock that pulsed through her body at seeing the man she thought was dead for the past 5 years. He seemed smaller now–which was no easy feat considering the bulk of his figure thanks to the SEP serum. Little ashen bits were flaking off of the skin of his face and falling upward in a stream of black smoke. It seemed so terrifying when she had first seen it in that dark factory, but looking at it now under the bright lights of the medical lab, she felt like she was looking at him as a doctor and not an opponent. He was sick. He was clearly sick. In pain, even, but doing his best to remain composed in the midst of that.

The eyes were still unnerving. Black sclera, red irises, but the expression on his face seemed to disarm them, slightly. He had aged enough in his years of Overwatch for the scars and laughlines to shift and betray his own fear that he was tamping down. Maybe that was why he embraced the mask so easily . Years ago he had respected her, depended on her, then after Zurich she was another name on his list: the woman who condemned him to a living death just by trying to keep him alive.

“You can come in,” said Reaper, “I won’t bite.”

Mercy took a hesitant step into the room.

“You’re looking well,” said Reaper.

Mercy kept up a steady glare.

“This is awkward,” said Reaper.

“Last time we met you nearly killed me,” said Mercy, “And now you threatened innocent civilians to drag me here and ask me to save your life so you can _keep_ killing. That’s well past awkward.”

Reaper gave a glance to Moira past Mercy’s shoulder, who gave him a slight ‘I told you so’ head tilt with an ‘It’s not too late to shoot her’ eyebrow raise.

“I know,” said Reaper, “I don’t have to tell you we’re in a war, Doc. I know you want to stay alive. You have to do everything you can to keep your work from falling into the wrong hands–and obviously your team would suffer from your absence. At this point, you’re free falling. Hoping your team can pull off another one of their crazy stunts to swoop in and catch you and save the day, because god knows _you’ve_ had to do that over and over again for them. So you keep a cool head. You buy time. That’s fair.”

“Is this the ‘you have no hope of escaping’ speech? Because I don’t think anyone here has time for that,” said Mercy.

“I don’t like that you’re here, Doc. I really wish we didn’t have to bring you in, but I think we can help each other with this,” Reaper pulled back the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Gabriel–” Moira started in warning, but it was too late. Mercy winced back at the sight of visible bone and necrotizing flesh falling up and off his arm.

“I know you want to fix this,” said Reaper, slipping the sleeve back over his arm, “If not for my sake, then at least for fixing what’s been done to your tech’s sake. At least for the sake of knowing it can be undone.”

Reaper made brief eye contact with Moira and Moira’s face pinched slightly, but she seemed to remember what Reaper had said earlier about Mercy not being able to walk away from this. Mercy’s own expression was tense, her arms folded tight across herself, looking at Reaper’s arm with a combination of revulsion, regret, and curiosity.

“Just need you to patch me up one last time, Doc,” said Reaper.

“I’ve heard that before,” said Mercy, her brow furrowing.

“Yeah except you’re not bleeding out this time,” said Reaper, “Let’s keep it that way, right?”

—–

“Huh… I was wondering how all your comms data managed not to be split wide open by Talon cyber attacks,” said Lynx Seventeen in a vidcom window as a dizzing amount of data streamed down Athena’s screens, “I must say, your encryption algorithms are poetry–”

“Oh–” Athena made a noise that sounded like a tittering chuckle, “Well thank you. I do my best.”

“Can we _please_ stay focused?” said Genji, pacing back and forth.

“Hey, this stuff’s just as much an art as a science, and doing it remotely like this takes time,” said Lynx.

“We should be going _now_, and figuring out which building in Venice she’s being held in is on the way.”

“This is educated guesswork at best!” said Lynx, their metal ears twitching with irritation, “I’m just compiling data gathered from Antonio’s complex combined with the logistical data of Talon’s movements during the Venice Incident. Even if I cross reference blueprints and building restoration records to compile a rough estimate of the most likely site Doctor Ziegler might be held in, you’d still be flying in blind with no knowledge of the building’s interior.”

“I’ve gone in with less,” said Genji.

“And missions where you’ve gone in with less have ended like Venice,” said Winston, frowning over a holographic map of agent locations, “Like McCree said, we’re spread thin.”

“I can go alone then–” said Genji, “Fewer variables, I’m harder to detect than a team—”

“Genji, we’re all as worried about her as you are–” McCree started.

“Are you!?” said Genji. 

“But we can’t afford to be emotional about this. We’ve barely had the resources to keep Talon in check. Taking the fight to them is a whole other ball game.”

“Her medical knowledge has to be the primary explanation as to why Talon would snatch her up while still keeping her conscious,” said Jack, “She _has_ time. And she’s smart, she can probably buy even more for herself.”

“You’ve seen what Reaper has done to her before,” said Genji, folding his arms tight across himself, “I can’t–I can’t go through that again. _We_ can’t let that happen to her again. She’s been keeping us alive. We owe this to her. And every second we spend deliberating here–”

“We aren’t deliberating–we’re planning as best we can how to get her back,” said Jack, “And you _are_ going to be on the rescue team. I promise you that. You and McCree have had experience in Venice before. But I’m going to need you to keep calm and let Lynx and Athena work.”

Genji’s shoulders bunched up. “I’m calm.”

“You’re really not,” said McCree.

“Take a walk,” said Jack.

“We’ll page you when we’ve drawn up an itinerary for the rescue mission,” said Winston.

“Come on,” said McCree, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him out of the room.

They walked down the hallway a ways.

“Y’know you still gotta debrief from that last mission,” suggested McCree.

“Ana and Tracer should cover it sufficiently,” said Genji.

“Genji, I don’t need to be able to see your face to tell when you’re going down a black hole. I’m scared for the doc, too! Terrified! But if we fuck this up she could end up dead.”

Genji visibly winced at McCree’s words.

“Your hacker said you were flying blind,” a voice spoke up from just up the hal and Genji and McCree both stopped and looked to see Hanzo leaning against the wall.

“I don’t recall you being invited to that meeting,” said McCree, folding his arms.

Hanzo held up what appeared to be a semi-deconstructed tip of a sonar arrow. “I don’t like being kept out of the loop,” he said, pocketing the tip.

“How much of the watchpoint have you bugged?” said McCree.

“That’s not important right now.”

“Oh I think it’s pretty imp—” McCree started.

“What are your thoughts, Hanzo?” said Genji.

“I… “ Hanzo straightened himself up slightly, “I have a contact who might be able to help us.”

“…you have contacts in Talon,” said McCree.

“_Former_ Talon,” said Hanzo, “And he’s a medic as well. With Angela in Talon’s custody, I believe he’s the best person we can bring in.”

McCree gave a wary glance to Genji. “I don’t know how I feel about going behind Winston and Jack’s back about this…”

“Can you get in contact with him?” asked Genji.

Hanzo gave a single nod.

—

Just being in Moira’s lab made Mercy’s skin crawl. It had virtually no natural light and the entire room was cast in a sickly yellow glow that rippled with watery shadows from the massive biotic tank at the center of the room. She kept it clean, as any scientist worth their salt would, 

“It’s a threefold problem,” said Moira as she brought up a projection of Reaper’s cells on a large holographic screen.

“The primary problem being your modifications to Reaper’s cellular structure,” said Mercy, leaning forward at the projection.

“There is _nothing_ wrong with my modifications,” said Moira, “The variables presented by the SEP program and your little Lazarus stunt back in Zurich on the other hand…”

“Nothing wrong with your modifications?” said Mercy, glancing at Moira’s withered hand.

“This is trial and error,” said Moira, running a thumb over one of the silvery veins on her hand, “I took the first risks with rabbits and myself to make sure I got it right,” she turned her attention back to the screen. “As I was saying. Threefold.”

“The nanites, the SEP serum, and the resurrection,” said Mercy.

“Indeed.”

“Moira–” Mercy folded her arms across herself, “If Gabriel is going to survive this, I’m going to need to understand more about your nanites.”

“Because of course only _you_ can save him,” said Moira with an eye roll, “Our _guardian angel.”  
_

“I’m more than happy to get out of this lab and leave Reaper in your capable hands,” Mercy said tensely.

“And I wish we could kill you, plastinate your brain, use it as a paperweight, and be done with it but I’m afraid we’re both stuck here and unhappy until Gabriel starts dying less,” said Moira, not even looking away from the screen.

“The nanites,” said Mercy. 

“They’re modified from the nanobots of biotics to assimilate into human tissue and then allow that tissue to re-assimilate itself to their own abilities. What about them?”

“There’s more to it than that. I doubt you just woke up one morning and said, ‘Oh you know what will help the world? Turning people into energy-sapping smoke monsters.’”

Moira scoffed. “Your first error is assuming science is about altruism. The _point_ of science is _understanding_. We must find out everything we can about ourselves and the universe we live in. Whether that’s to our benefit is irrelevant.”

“I’m sure anyone under your care as a medic is thrilled to hear that,” said Mercy.

Moira just scoffed. “The greatest leaps in evolution were shifts on a cellular level and massive expansions in biodiversity. I saw the world within an evolutionary funnel… in the midst of our own anthropocentric mass extinction event, and a severe reduction in human biodiversity from the severe population drop from the Omnic crisis. We needed an edge. A _cellular_ edge. I thought, what if our form as multicellular organisms wasn’t static? What if we could move beyond the movements of our bodies as dictated by our own somatotopy? What might we be able to do with the neuro-cellular capabilities of a cephalopod while still maintaining our highly advanced abstract reasoning capabilities? What if we could push that _cellular_ control even further than that?”

“Cephalo–You wanted us to be like _octopuses_?” Mercy’s voice pitched up.

“Well in terms of balancing abstract problem solving and extremely refined control of the physical body…” said Moira. She made eye contact with Mercy. “Oh don’t give me that look.”

“I highly doubt Reyes would agree to a trial of your treatments because he wanted to be more like an octopus,” said Mercy, flatly.

“He wouldn’t,” said Moira, “He turned to me because other members of the SEP program–surviving members of the SEP program– were dying.”

Mercy blinked several times, “No, the US government–”

“Had blacked out all history of the SEP program for fear of other country’s replicating it… but that couldn’t stop its effects,” said Moira, “The adaptability of nanites would mean Gabriel would be capable of producing NK cells _at will_ to fight any cancerous incursions—he’s not just a ‘Smoke monster’ Angela. The nanites function close to stem cells–in fact they’re even _more_ adaptable. They were going to be his best defense against any potential cancers or organ failure from the SEP serum.”

“…so the current state of necrosis in his body–” Mercy started.

“Has essentially metastasized throughout his body because of the nanites and more and more organic components of his body are being destroyed by nanites because the sick cells are recognized as threats to the whole, yes, _I know,_” said Moira, “You’re all caught up. Happy?”

“I–well… that’s a start,” said Mercy.

A long pause passed between them.

“He got it for Jack’s sake, too, didn’t he?” said Mercy, watching a nanite cell attack a sickly organic cell on the screen, “He’d test it out on himself first so that if the SEP serum ever started negatively affecting Jack…”

“That goes without saying,” said Moira, stiffly.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” said Mercy, “Watching people you care about… collapse despite everything you–”

“I don’t give a damn about your bedside manner or your pathetic attempts to build a rapport,” said Moira, “I’ve heard all your cute little speeches at the UN long enough to know that you’re a parking boot on the wheels of progress, so stop wasting Gabriel’s time and just do what you were brought here to do.”

“This is really upsetting you, isn’t it?” said Mercy.

“If it is, we had bloody well better fix it, shouldn’t we?” said Moira, her withered hand flexing at her side.

Mercy bit the inside of her lip, realizing she wouldn’t be able to buy herself too much time deliberating with Moira. And _pushing_ Moira would probably just end up with her in another biotic grip or worse.

“I’ll need samples,” said Mercy, “Blood, urine, spinal fluid if you have it–” she perked up, “Marrow! His-”

“His bone wasn’t decomposing as fast as the rest of him,” said Moira, her head lifting up,” she furrowed her brow slightly, “An unpleasant procedure, but he should be stable enough for it. I have his blood and spinal fluid on ice and it shouldn’t take too long to get the urine but.. a marrow sample might provide new data.”

“Good,” said Mercy, looking back at the screen, “That’s good.” Another long silence passed between them as Moira stooped over her lab terminal and typed in a few commands to begin preparations for the marrow extraction procedure. “I–Just so you know, despite… despite all the horrible things he’s done, all the horrible things he’s letting you do, I _do_ want to help him,” said Mercy.

“Oh I know you do. You always did. See where that got him,” said Moira.


	4. Chapter 4

“And you’re sure about this guy?” said McCree.

“For the 23rd time, yes,” said Hanzo, irritated as the door slid open to Athena’s secondary terminal near the Watchpoint training area.

“Agents, you must understand I’m diverting much of my processing power towards logistics with Winston and Lynx Seventeen,” said Athena as soon as they walked in.

“We know, Athena,” said McCree, pulling out the swivel chair and allowing Hanzo to sit down, “But you’re still able to run the comms systems, right?”

“Of course,” said Athena.

“I’m going to need you to open a new comm channel,” said Hanzo, tapping away at Athena’s keyboard, “Identification numerals 11–”

“You do not yet have clearance to open new comm channels,” Athena said automatically and Hanzo’s brow furrowed. He looked at McCree.

“I think we should think about–” McCree started but Genji stepped forward.

“Agent override,” said Genji, “Vocal confirmation: Shimada, Genji. Granting temporary overrides to probationary agent Shimada Hanzo to open new comm channels.”

“Override recognized,” said Athena, “Probationary Agent Shimada Hanzo?”

Hanzo drew in a steady breath and began typing at the keyboard again, “Identification numerals 111801110514.”

“Identification numerals accepted,” said Athena, “Would you like me to hail?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

“Comm or Vid-Com?” said Athena.

“…Vid-Com is available?” said Hanzo.

“Yes,” said Athena.

“Vid-Com,” said Hanzo.

“What difference does it make?” said McCree.

“We should,” Hanzo cleared his throat, “We should have visual clarification.”

McCree’s brow crinkled with skepticism but Genji just leaned forward and pressed a key on Athena’s keyboard.

“Hailing Comm ID 111801110514,” said Athena.

“Genji!” McCree said with irritation, “We need to think this through!”

“Angela doesn’t have time for us to ‘think this through!’” Genji snapped back.

“Connecting,” said Athena, “Connecting…”

Athena’s screen blipped to a blurred environment and several chimes sounded.

“Hailing,” said Athena, “Hailing.”

Something muttered and distorted sounded over Athena’s speakers and the screen unblurred to reveal a man in dim light in what appeared to be the bridge of a luxury yacht. A handsome man plopped into the captain’s seat, clearly exhausted and rubbing his eyes.

“This is Josué Dosou–head of staff for Vernand Sainclair’s yacht crew, currently reporting from The Sainclair…Vernand is not available at the mom–”

“Baptiste?” said Hanzo.

“Hanzo?” Baptiste’s eyes suddenly lit up and he slapped his hands on the dashboard of the yacht, “Hanzo! It _is_ you!” His eyes instantly flicked to McCree and Genji on either side of Hanzo. “…is it safe to talk? Who are your friends?”

Hanzo cleared his throat, motioning to both McCree and Genji as he spoke. “Baptiste, this is Jesse McCree of Overwatch, and my brother, Genji.”

“Genji!?” a smile split across Baptiste’s face, “I’ve heard so much about you!” Baptiste seemed to catch himself and his eyes flicked to Hanzo briefly before flicking back to Genji, “Good things!” Baptiste saw fit to clarify.

McCree and Genji exchanged glances as Hanzo cleared his throat.

“As much as I would like this to just be a call to catch up, my friend, I’m afraid I’m contacting you regarding a very serious matter,” said Hanzo.

“Well, I did say if you ever needed a helping hand…” Baptiste started and a quiet smile crossed Hanzo’s face. McCree looked from Baptiste on the screen, to Hanzo, back to Baptiste, back to Hanzo, then finally to Genji. Upon making eye contact, Genji just shrugged.

“An ally of ours,” Hanzo continued, “Angela Ziegler, has been captured by Talon.”

Baptiste’s face suddenly dropped from its jovial expression. “Talon took Doctor Ziegler?” he repeated quietly.

“It’s of utmost importance that we get her back as quickly as possible,” said Genji, leaning into the call.

“No-no–I mean, yes, I understand completely,” said Baptiste, “If Doctor Ziegler has been taken, that means—” A bell could be heard ringing and Baptiste suddenly sprang to his feet, “Excuse me one moment,” he said, getting up and rushing offscreen. The ringing sound stopped and Baptiste could be heard grunting in the background.

“Baptiste?” said Hanzo, leaning into Athena’s microphone. There was only grunting on the other side. Hanzo cleared his throat and dropped his voice slightly, leaning into the microphone again, “Jean?” he said.

“I can hear you! I’m still listening!” Baptiste yelled from offscreen.

“Is… everything all right?” said Hanzo.

“Everything’s fine! Keep going about Doctor Ziegler!” Baptiste yelled from offscreen.

Genji cleared his throat. “Doctor Ziegler had been spending the past three days at a medical conference in Malta. About 5 hours ago, she was taken from the bar at the Hotel Eupheme. We don’t have any audio, but we do have video.” Genji hit a few keys on Athena’s keyboard and sent over the silent footage of Mercy and an enormous man with a white streak in his massive mane of black hair at a hotel bar.

“Give me a second!” Baptiste called again from offscreen.

“I’ll just… set it on ‘replay’ said Genji, tapping a few more things onto Athena’s keyboard.

“…loving this contact so far,” said McCree flatly.

“He’s an ally you’d want on your side,” said Hanzo, giving a sharp look to McCree.

“Sure. Ex-Talon. I’m itching for it,” said McCree with an eye-roll.

“Ahh… sorry about that,” said Baptiste, coming back into the view of the screen, a large dentex under one arm, still flapping slightly.

“Is that–” McCree stammered, “Were you just _fishing?!_”

“Man cannot live on Sainclair’s mini-bar alone, my friend,” said Baptiste, pulling a cooler out from beneath the yacht’s dashboard and stuffing the fish into it, “But now that I have the next few nights’ dinner secured, I’m more than happy to help with–Mauga!?” his eyes practically bulged and he looked back at Hanzo as if the video footage Genji had sent him couldn’t be real.

“So it is Mauga,” said Hanzo, thoughtfully, “I thought he matched your descriptions of him, but—”

“Wait, _you_ know this guy’s name?!” said McCree, looking at Hanzo.

“I wasn’t sure,” said Hanzo, swiveling his chair in McCree’s direction, “And furthermore, I only had audio on your meeting with Jack. This is the first I’m seeing of him as well.”

“Oh I’m so sorry you couldn’t bug our conference room better,” said McCree with an eye roll before turning back to Baptiste on the screen, “So who the hell’s Mogwai?”

“Mogwai is a band. Or a gremlin. _Mauga_ is an old coworker,” said Baptiste, “Really not someone you want to mess with.”

“Really? I thought he looked like 7 feet and three inches of fun,” McCree muttered under his breath.

Baptiste stared at the screen, apparently studying the replaying footage of Mercy leaving with Mauga. “Talon had to have had the hotel locked down,” Baptiste said, apparently mostly to himself, “Mauga knows how to throw his weight around, but from my own experiences with Doctor Ziegler, not even _he_ could get her to a second location just through intimidation. A lockdown of that level couldn’t be Talon’s long-distance drop teams. It would have to be local–they probably only took her to a facility a few hours away.”

“You worked with Ang–with Doctor Ziegler?” said Genji.

“Only for about a week, in Venezuela. She leaves an impression though,” said Baptiste.

“You worked with Mercy _and_ Talon?” said McCree, leaning into the screen.

“McCree,” Hanzo hissed under his breath indignantly, but McCree kept up his glare at Baptiste.

“I had defected from Talon well before meeting Doctor Ziegler,” said Baptiste, “But as I was saying, the facility they took her to would likely still be in the mediterranean–You said she was taken from Malta, right? And if they didn’t knock her out, that means they needed her medical know-how, rather than just striking a blow to Overwatch, which means they’ll be keeping her at a Talon facility with well-equipped labs. My money’s on Venice–highest possible security with all the administration there.”

Genji gave a somewhat impressed look over to McCree but McCree just shook his head. “We already knew that,” said McCree, leaning into the screen, “How can you _help?_”

“Aside from pretty much having all Talon attack strategies and logistics memorized?” said Baptiste, leaning back in his seat, “I’m a full-fledged combat medic and on top of that, a pretty good shot. And I want Doctor Ziegler safe just as much as you do. For what it’s worth… I really wanted to join Overwatch when I was a kid.”

“If you can help us—” Genji started.

“Hold up hold up hold up,” said McCree, before looking at the Shimada brothers, “Sidebar?”

“Baptiste, I apologize—” Hanzo started.

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Baptiste with a wave.

“Athena, mute audio,” said McCree and a small crossed out mic icon appeared in the corner of their screen.

“We’re rushing into this way too fast,” said McCree.

“I assure you, no one wants to take down Talon more than Baptiste,” said Hanzo.

“And how do you know that, exactly?” said McCree, “And if Genji hadn’t rushed in, I would have asked this question earlier, but how _the hell_ do you have this contact?”

Hanzo’s lips thinned thoughtfully and he cleared his throat. “Technically we had known each other only briefly while he was still in Talon,” said Hanzo.

“…I’m sorry, what?” said McCree.

“It–it was negligible,” said Hanzo, “A few words exchanged. Little more. I knew he was a good man back then–even if at the time our father decided against an alliance with Talon.”

Genji’s visor suddenly brightened. “I _thought_ he looked familiar!” said Genji, excitedly, “The estate security had to practically drag you off–”

Hanzo cleared his throat sharply and Genji gave a short glance to McCree and a nervous chuckle. “I–mean—” Genji just looked at Hanzo, “Go on.”

One corner of McCree’s mouth twisted up in a grimace. At this point, he was used to drawn out and dramatic stories where Hanzo was involved, but now he had a pretty strong idea of where the story was going.

“We wouldn’t meet again until a few years later,” said Hanzo, “It was shortly after Genji confronted me at Hanamura castle and said we must take a side. I am not proud to say I decided to flee as far from Hanamura as I could. I decided to run from the decision. And in my flight I found myself in the Caribbean, and then…I met Baptiste… again. Through a whole… mess of circumstances, we found ourselves fighting against a Talon incursion in San Pedro de Macoris. He is—His fighting style is unparalleled.”

_They fucked,_ the thought came to McCree as a knee-jerk reaction but it was all he could do to stuff it down and fold his arms. Hanzo was withholding too many details, too many exchanges between himself and Baptiste for that not to be the case. But he didn’t care–at least he told himself that–and anyway if Hanzo was emotionally compromised that just undermined Baptiste’s whole presence in this mess, didn’t it? 

“Well that’s a vote of confidence,” said Genji, looking at McCree, but McCree was now avoiding eye contact with both of them, itching beneath the brim of his hat.

“…I don’t believe I would be here without Baptiste,” said Hanzo, “I knew there were two sides, that conflict was unavoidable, but my time with Baptiste showed me that I could not flee in grief forever. That eventually… I would have to take action.” Hanzo drew in a steady breath, “I know I do not have your trust. But I would have you trust Baptiste before you trusted me. _That_ is his strength of character.” 

“I trust you,” said Genji, putting a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder.

“He killed you,” said McCree, flatly.

“I _trust_ you,” Genji said insistently, giving Hanzo’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Genji, you don’t trust him, you’re just terrified of losing the Doc,” said McCree.

“I can do _both_,” said Genji, his shoulders bunching up.

McCree huffed.

“It’s a two to one vote,” said Genji.

“Hanzo’s status is probationary. It’s one to one. And if I bring Ana in here you can bet we’ll actually be involving the vetting process for this Baptiste guy.”

“I thought you believed in redemption!” Genji snapped.

“I _do!_” McCree said on reflex.

“Then why is it so hard to believe Baptiste might share our cause? That Baptiste might want to help Angela?” said Genji.

“I–It’s–I–” McCree tried not to look at Hanzo as he stammered. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Fine! Fine! Let’s bring in Ex-Talon-Look-At-My-Fish guy! Don’t come crying to me when it blows up in our faces!”

“I assure you, you’re making the right decision,” said Hanzo.

“Yeah,” said McCree, not making eye contact with Hanzo, “Yeah let’s hope so.” He looked back at Hanzo and Genji. “So… unmute?”

Hanzo and Genji gave a simultaneous nod and McCree said, “Athena, unmute.”

The crossed out mic icon in the left corner of the screen disappeared.

“Baptiste, you still there?” said McCree.

Baptiste glanced up, slightly startled and in the midst of cleaning the dentex he had caught and pouring the guts into his bait bucket. “Hm? Oh-” He nearly fumbled with the fish, then smacked it against the bait bucket a few more times before throwing the fish into the cooler again and setting the bait bucket aside. “Yes. Yes, I’m listening.”

“What are your current coordinates?”

“I can calculate that, with his permission or your override,” said Athena.

“That’s really not–” Baptiste started.

“35°34'24.8″ North, 15°52'07.8″ West,” said Athena, projecting the map on a picture in picture.

“…you’re in sneezing distance of Gibraltar,” said McCree.

“You mean this stupid party boat _actually_ made it across the Atlantic?” said Baptiste incredulously.

“With Agent Vaswani’s help, we are theoretically capable of opening up a teleporter at his coordinates without compromising our satellites,” said Athena.

“Huh,” said McCree, before looking back at Baptiste, “You said you wanted to join Overwatch, right?”

“Yes…” said Baptiste, hesitantly

“So how soon is good for you?”

“Well that depends—”

“Five minutes enough?”

“What?” said Baptiste.


	5. Chapter 5

Reaper was lying on his side in a hospital gown on an examination table as several labtechs fussed over him while Moira looked on. Beneath the too-cold fluorescent lights of Talon’s med-bay, it was the sort of image that would make you laugh, not because it was funny, but rather because it was uncomfortable with the unnerving vulnerability of it all, but no one was laughing. One of the labtechs handed Moira the syringe and she quietly took it.

“You know this whole mess started with me having one ass cheek out,” said Reaper.

“Ventrogluteal injections and pelvic bone marrow samples are very normal medical procedures, Gabriel,” said Moira, holding the syringe up to the light and squinting at it.

“Are you sure taking more bits out of me is going to help?” said Reaper.

“Bone marrow extraction takes its toll, but it wasn’t as if you were mission ready anyway,” said Moira. One corner of her mouth twisted up with her focus, “I am seeing some nanite particulates in your marrow, which is to be expected... obviously...” she trailed off slightly and huffed, knowing there wasn’t much she could observe just holding it up to the light, “I’ll examine it more closely and run more tests. See if there’s anything I missed since the last time.” 

“See what the Doc says about it,” said Reaper.

“That’s why she’s here, isn’t it?” said Moira, no bitterness leaving her voice.

“How is she?” said Reaper.

“Stubborn and passive aggressive as ever,” said Moira.

“I mean do you think she can help?” said Reaper.

“I believe you had my opinion before we brought her her here,” said Moira.

“Moira,” said Reaper.

“That remains to be seen,” said Moira, “If she can’t, well there’s always a bullet and the canals. And if she can... there’s a bullet and the canals.”

\----

“No, it should only take a few minutes--” McCree was talking into his comm, pacing back and forth in front of Athena’s monitor. Some irritated chatter could be heard on the other side. “No, I don’t only call you when I need a teleporter! That’s ridiculous! We’re buddies, right?”

McCree seemed to wince a little as he received what could only be Satya’s eviscerating assessments of his character on the other end of the comm.

“Tell you what--Do me this solid and I’ll get that weird blotch out of the orca’s couch that you’re always complaining about,” said McCree.

A monosyllabic response was heard on the other end.

“You hate that blotch!” said McCree. McCree was chewing his lip as he paced back and forth in the room, Satya continuing to admonish and verbally cut him to ribbons on the other side of the comm. He could feel Hanzo’s steady gaze tracking him back and forth, but even worse was Baptiste’s eyes on him through the vid-com.

Genji himself seemed to have gotten into the habit of repeatedly fidgeting with his prosthetic arm’s shuriken loading mechanism to try and stave off his maelstrom of worries about Angela, sliding his wrist plate back and forth and clicking the shuriken out of place and back in. _We should be going now_, he thought, _What if they’re hurting her? She’s fighting back. She has to. And they’ll hurt her for fighting back. They’re hurting her right now and you’re here and you’re a useless useless useless stupid pile of nuts and bolts with a handful of organs slapped on there who should have gone with her to that conference. This wouldn’t have happened if you were at that conference but nooooo you didn’t want to sit through a few 3 hour lectures and now---_

“...is it always like this?” Baptiste spoke a little softly to Hanzo.

“I’m still getting used to it myself,” said Hanzo with a chuckle.

_They’ve been talking for five minutes and he’s got a chuckle? It took me weeks to get Hanzo to crack a smile! Okay. Shut up brain. The Doc. This is about the doc._ The thought flinched through McCree’s mind and blanked out Satya’s voice on the comm only briefly before he snapped back to attention and blurted out, “Dagnabbit, Satya, _lives are on the line!”_

There was a pause on Satya’s end and then an, “Understood.”

“...Seriously?” said McCree.

“Lives are on the line, as you say,” said Satya, “I’ll be there with the necessary equipment for a teleporter in a few minutes.”

“Th..thanks...” said McCree, honestly amazed he managed to convince her. Then again she was . He clicked out of the comm. 

“A few minutes,” he said, looking back at the Shimada brothers and Baptiste on the Vid-com, “Then we can have you over here like that.” He snapped his fingers before turning to Genji, “I can still call it off--so I want you to be sure about this---”

“I’m sure---” Genji started.

“You’re not sure, you’re _scared_, and that’s fine,” said McCree, “But we shouldn’t trust this guy just because you’re desperate to get the Doc back. You can’t just go on Hanzo’s word.”

Genji straightened his shoulders, “You’re right,” he said, before turning to Baptiste on the screen, “You said you worked with Doctor Ziegler in Venezuela, right?”

“Right,” said Baptiste, a little hesitantly.

“Do you have anything on you that might... verify that work together?”

“I’ve tried to leave as little a trail as possible, you understand,” said Baptiste, “Doctor Ziegler was pretty intense and secretive as well at the time, so we weren’t exactly best friends.”

“Hm...” Genji looked thoughtful.

“She was... pretty set on having no one recognize her from her posters,” Baptiste let out a hapless chuckle, “And she couldn’t stand being called ‘Mercy.’” 

Genji seemed to perk up at this.

“We did take a photo or two together, but... those are back at my clinic...” said Baptiste trailing off, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. We were both very focused on helping our patients at the time.”

“You said she leaves an impression,” said Genji.

“She does!” said Baptiste, “Smart, tough, focused---But I’m pretty sure what I saw of her is what anyone would see of her.” He paused, “I will say, she brews the absolute worst pot of coffee I have ever tasted.”

Genji’s visor brightened. “What did you say?”

“Well I wouldn’t expect her to be a barista or culinary genius--” Baptiste went on.

“But did you say it was the worst?” said Genji, the lights on his shoulders practically blazing with excitement.

“Oh, by far, the worst,” said Baptiste, hardly paying attention, “It was honestly _impressive_ how bad this coffee was--like I’m pretty sure we were only a mile north of a coffee farm. You could not have gotten more premium, locally sourced beans, and it still tasted like she filtered the grounds through the devil’s asshole.”

“They did work together...” Genji said, a breathless awe in his voice.

The door slid open and Genji, Hanzo, and McCree, all turned around to see Satya standing in the doorway.

“Satya!” McCree’s face lit up, “I can’t tell you how much it means that you’re--”

Satya stepped aside with her usual curt grace and Jack marched into the doorway. “Care telling me what you wanted a teleporter for?”

“You narc’d?” said McCree, looking at Satya. She gave him a sharp sidelong glance through her visor. His shoulders slumped. “Of course you narc’d. You’re _dating_ the only narc bigger than _you_ on this watchpoint.”

“Of course. You must admit that your whole situation was highly dubious,” said Satya.

Both Genji and Hanzo gave a distressed look to McCree and McCree’s stomach lurched at the thought of having to play the advocate for someone Hanzo seemed a bit too excited to bring to the Watchpoint, but he remembered Mercy still in Talon’s clutches and straightened his shoulders. They needed Baptiste. As much as McCree hated to admit it, they needed whatever help they could get.

“Well look, Jack,” McCree started, “You’re not strike commander anymore, and we handled ourselves fine for a few months without--”

McCree’s shoulders slumped at the sound of Winston clearing his throat. Winston leaned into the doorway behind Jack and Satya with an awkward-but-endearing wave.

“Hanzo,” Winston tented his thick fingers, “I do appreciate you being proactive in recruiting other members but--”

Jack pointed a finger at the screen, “Can he hear us?”

“Yes he can,” said Baptiste, flatly.

Winston cleared his throat again and Jack lowered his finger. 

“As I was saying, Hanzo, I appreciate bringing in extra help, but you’ve only recently gone off probation. If anyone’s going to be doing any vetting around here, it’s going to be--”

“Satya?” Baptiste spoke up.

Symmetra suddenly perked up, “Lieutenant Augustin?”

“Oh come on, you know _her_, too?” said McCree.

“Only briefly--You got away from Vishkar?” Baptiste’s eyes were wide from amazement.

Satya cleared her throat, “Well--um--yes,” she said, curling the fingers of her prosthetic hand tentatively.

Baptiste huffed with some relief. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that. And you’re fighting alongside Overwatch?”

“Well.. they saved my life, and I should hate to see other people manipulated and taken advantage of like I was. So... here I am,” said Satya.

“Can we maybe not spill entire agent dossiers to unverified free agents?” Jack muttered.

“No-no, let them talk,” said Winton.

“Winston--” Jack’s teeth were gritted as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This life suits you, Satya. I like the new look,” said Baptiste.

“Oh--it’s not a _new_ look, the hair-is--is--it’s just down,” said Satya, fidgeting with her hair a bit, “You look well, also. The beard suits you.”

Baptiste chuckled.

McCree was slack-jawed. ‘_What the hell is happening’_ was lined out in every crease and whisker on his face. Baptiste knew Satya. _Satya,_ who may as well have grown up in a hyperbaric sensory deprivation chamber for all Vishkar did to cut her off from the world. And, even more baffling, Satya seemed to _like_ him. _Satya_, who didn’t like _anybody_. Except Pharah. And Ana. And Hanzo. And Zenyatta. And Genji. And Mei. And Mercy. Okay, all things considered McCree probably just took it personally that Satya didn’t seem terribly keen on him.

“So you do know him?” said Winston.

“It... it was back when I was in Vishkar,” said Satya, turning to Winston, “So I am not sure how... legitimate my attestation may be, but I can assure you that he’s an excellent medic.”

“And with Ana and Lúcio deployed we _are_ short on Medics...” said Winston, thoughtfully.

“I have biotic fields,” said Jack, stiffly.

Both Winston and Symmetra gave Jack an almost pitying sidelong glance, and Jack just huffed and folded his arms.

“Respectfully speaking, from what these three have told me, I don’t believe Doctor Ziegler has a lot of time for deliberation on our end,” said Baptiste, “If it helps, I can take the pulse rounds out of my biotic launcher. No offense, all medicine.”

“Biotic launcher?” said Genji.

“Modified from a standard Caribbean Coalition pulse rifle,” said Baptiste, hauling up a somewhat clunky-looking gun.

“Sure, let’s just let the guy who seems to _magically_ know Hanzo and Satya and the Doc splash us with god-knows-what,” said McCree, rolling his eyes.

“_I_ know what,” said Hanzo, giving a sharp look to McCree, “He’s saved many lives with that launcher. He’s saved mine with it, too.”

“...Ah,” said McCree.

“So both of you are willing to vouch for him?” said Winston, looking between Hanzo and Symmetra.

“I understand my standing in this organization isn’t as established as others--” said Symmetra.

“And mine far less so,” said Hanzo, “But yes.”

“Yes, we can trust him,” said Symmetra.

“And he _did_ know Angela. I’m sure of it,” said Genji.

“Winston, if you’re sure about this...” said Jack.

“I’m not,” said Winston, “But losing Doctor Ziegler would not only devastate this organization, but biotic research all over the world. It’s a risk we _have_ to take. Athena--you have a lock on his coordinates?”

“Yes,” chimed Athena.

“Satya?” said Winston.

Satya stepped forward and made a sweeping gesture with her prosthetic, “Now, this may be jarring if you’ve never teleported before.”

“I can handle it,” said Baptiste, smiling, “And... thank you. I’ll do my best to earn your trust.” 

“Winston--” Genji put a hand on Winston’s shoulder, “Thank you.”

“You can thank him when we get the Doc back,” said McCree.

“Let’s just hope Lynx Seventeen has those schematics ready,” said Winston.

\----

“As I suspected... no avascular necrosis...” said Mercy, pushing past several x-rays on a computer screen in her swivel chair before swiveling to face the microscope. It annoyed Moira to see Mercy working as if she wasn’t completely at Talon’s, for lack of a better word, mercy, but then again, lab work could be a comfort in and of itself. The one thing she could have control over. “He remained stable when you were taking the bone marrow sample?” said Mercy, looking through the microscope.

“He did,” said Moira, “What were your observations on the samples I gave you?”

“His white blood cell count is unnervingly low, and there doesn’t seem to be any particular spike in toxins in his urine,” said Mercy, “But from what other data you gave me, in theory the nanites should be picking up the slack with his immune system.”

“’In theory,’” said Moira, folding her arms, “His lack of any significant bacterial infections is proof enough that they are picking up the slack.”

“They’re also destroying his body. I’m going to need a clearer timetable on how fast his deterioration is going if I’m going to help him,” said Mercy.

“If I knew, I would tell you,” said Moira, pushing her red hair back, “That’s the thing about nanites--they’re meant to keep the body going even in the event of catastrophic organ failure. In theory his _heart_ could stop and he could keep... keep...” she closed her eyes, “The nervous system and skeletal systems are probably the final threshold.” She remembered Reaper’s finger falling off and her stomach lurched, “There’s already structural failure in his extremities, but no loss of coordination yet.”

“This is what happens when you push the human body far past what it’s supposed to do...” Mercy said mostly to herself in a sigh.

Something stung in the pit of Moira’s stomach at those words. She could have just shrugged it off and called Mercy a coward with regards to science as she always did. The human body was a mess, after all--the spine and knees structural nightmares, the brain a complete mess of chemicals whose imbalances were nigh impossible to decipher save through the crapshoot of behavioral observation, and of course there was the whole matter of cells that sometimes simply forgot how to properly propagate and then ended up _killing the whole damn body._ The human body could be improved. The human body _had_ to be improved. But, and in later reflections she would suppose this was probably her own distress over Gabriel wanting Mercy to feel that same guilt and fury, instead of saying any of this, she said, “Of course you feel that way, if you had your way, Genji would probably still be in crutches now.”

Mercy bristled and swiveled around in her chair. “Excuse me?” 

“It was easier to ignore his true nature when he was rolling around in a wheelchair or looking up at you from those infirmary beds,” said Moira, perfectly calm.

“The cybernetics Blackwatch gave him were _abhorrent,”_ Mercy seethed, “The damage to his mental health was--”

“What he needed. No one liked looking at what Blackwatch was doing. Not Jack, and not you. But he needed it. You have no idea how dearly he needed it. What was done to him put a hunger in him no coddling therapy could sate. You didn’t see what I saw in the Venice incident,” a chuckle rippled out of her, “And then of course Overwatch puts him in _shining armor_ as soon as they put him on Oxton’s ever-so-marketable strike team. I suppose I can’t blame him for eventually believing he was what they told him he was.”

Mercy stood up so fast she knocked the chair back and it thudded against the table. “You have the gall to assume you know his true nature from seeing him at his lowest point?” Moira only needed to raise her withered hand, the node of her biotic rig glowing faintly purple, and Mercy drew back slightly.

“Is that not our true nature?” said Moira, she flicked her hand slightly, and Mercy flinched a little, knowing what would happen with contact, “Do what we must to survive? Do what we can to avoid pain?” She looked back at the screens displaying Reaper’s cells in their endless battle and dance. “The Americans launch the Soldier Enhancement Program so that we might survive the Omnics. I inject Gabriel with nanites so he might survive the SEP serum. You help us stabilize him in the hopes of your own survival. That’s all we ever do. That’s all we ever are,” she looked back at the nanites on the screen, “Right down to our most basic parts.”

“The world is a lot less lonely when you assume everyone is as monstrous as you, isn’t it?” the words slipped out of Mercy.

Moira didn’t want to think of what she did next as impulsive or a reaction of anger. Instinctive, maybe, a fulfillment of her word. As her hand clamped down on Mercy’s shoulder and Mercy screamed with the biotic rig sucking the energy out of her, Moira reminded herself that she had told Mercy at the start of all this that failure to comply would result in pain. _But it’s not as if she’s not complying, is she?_ Moira’s own inner critic spoke up, _You brought her here to help Gabriel. You were the one who brought up Genji--It’s almost funny how fast just bringing him up upsets her. It _would_ be funny if it weren’t so sad. _Moira didn’t release until Mercy’s knees buckled. She was gripping the edge of the desk, gasping for breath.

“The world _is_ as monstrous as me,” said Moira, “Get that through your head and maybe you might live a little longer.”


End file.
